Cynthia's Sonnets
by Crystar500
Summary: If one were to come across Cynthia's Johto home, you may find her desk upon entering. And on this desk, among her research, are pages among pages of sonnets. Freeverse - Not actual sonnets. Imported from Pokemon Amino.
1. Sonnet 1

If one were to come across Cynthia's Johto home, you may find her desk upon entering. And on this desk, among her research, are pages among pages of sonnets.

However, nobody is sure who they are made out to, despite the various sonnets written. She likely changed topics often, but about what? Perhaps thou can make sense of what she was trying to say...

Sonnet #1:

From all beautiful creatures we desire increase,  
That thereby their rose shall never wilt,  
But it shall falter when time decrease,  
For his tender love might brake his memory,  
But thou, bound only to thine own bright eyes,  
Add flames to the fire, with self-substantial fuel  
A famine with abundance of lies and selfishness,  
Thyself thy foe, to thy so sweet and so cruel.  
Thou that art now the finest work of dear Arceus  
And only herald to the gaudy spring,  
Within thine own silver soul shall thy bury content  
And tender love, made waste through thy hoarding.  
Pity the world our Arceus made, and let this Snorlax of a man be,  
To eat the world's due in sagacious selfishness, by the grave and thee.


	2. Sonnet 2

When the of winter pierces thy skin and furrows thy brow,

And delve into the deep thalwegs of beauty's embrace,

The world's youth and proud arrogance, viewed so endearingly now,

Will be nothing but a tattered weed eventually, with such worthless values held:

Then they'd ask the scholars where thy beauty lies,

"Why, where all the spoils of the passionate lays!"

To ask, within thine captivated calling crystals of eyes,

Disgrace! For thou are only an all-eating shame, with worthless praise!

How much more praise does thy beauty use?

If thou were bold enough to answer, "This bright light of mine,

Shall take thy beauty and make it thy excuse,

Proving pure beauty and making it shine!"

This stupidity and idiocy are to be made clear when thou art old,

And see thy blood run warm with shame, for thou was nothing but selfish and bold.

And thou shall remember the ending of life I had foretold.


	3. Sonnet 3

Look in thy mirror, and tell thy own eyes thou viewest,

Now is the time courage should formulate for another,

Whose healthy state shall falter and never be renewed,

Thou plots to foil the world, to unbless some mother,

For were she art not fair enough to embrace love?

And disdain the prophet of thy marriage?

Or is thou so fond of the grave

Of his wretched self-glory, to prevent thy love?

Thou art full of nothing but glass, and shall shatter soon in frenzy

And when thou calls upon the Shaymin Spring of their prime,

So through fragile windows of Dialga's work, thou shall see

Despite highlights of thy golden time,

Thou did not live, for thou was never meant to be.

Arceus had a purpose for thou, and thou ignored thee.


	4. Sonnet 4

Unyielding hatred thou dost spend

Upon thy heathen of no legacy?

Arceus requests thou give nothing but respect upon his land,

And, being frank, he only rewards thy that art generous.

Then, malicious men, why dost thou abuse

The prosperous heathen given to thee, rather than enjoy thy privilege to live?

Profitless ensured, lest ye shall abuse,

So great a sum beyond short time, yet you still live?

For thou only abuses thyself alone,

Thou only life thyself shall deceive.

Then, when the great Arceus calls for thou to be gone,

What acceptable audit canst thou have?

Thy meddled with the innocence of beauty, and Arceus have tomb'd thee,

For thou abused what thou should not, and doomed thyself, for all eternity.


	5. Sonnet 5

Those relentless centuries of gentle spectating thou did not complain,

Thou fell into the lovely gaze where every eyes yonder shall dwell,

But thou will just play into the cards of her very game!

And that unfairness should drive you instead to excel:

For never-resting Dialga will lead life on,

To the hideous delves of Winter, leaving him there;

Away from the false hope that lay with the Unovian gone,

Her beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:

Then, were my brother's distraught left,

A prisoner of his own false love in thin glass,

Beauty's effect is nothing more than a constricting Seviper, bound to bite you to make you float adrift,

Repent it! For you shall hath no need for what never was.

But flowers always blossom at the end of winter's meet,

Small, but thy show, just as your false love will return just as sweet.


	6. Sonnet 6

Come bite my thumb, for thy shall suffer deface!

In thee I see flames, for thou shall never be stilled:

Make sweet sacrifice; treasure your life and know thy place

For your treasure shall soon be pillaged, perhaps thou should self-kill?

That use is not forbidden surely,

All humans only pay Arceus a brief loan;

Time is for thyself to cash thee,

Make the world happier, be it all for none;

Ten times happier shall the world be than thou art,

If ten of thine times refigured thee:

Then what will Darkrai do, if thou should depart,

Leaving the world in prosperity?

Be not of self-will, for thou art not far from thin air,

To be Darkrai's conquest, and make brimstone thine heir.


	7. Sonnet 7

Oh, the eastern grace of glorious light,

Shall burn to the skies with gracious fire, boiling under each eye

Homage to the cruel power of Arceus and his sudden might,

Honor his sacred majesty;

And upon entering this tower of burning upon the heavenly hill,

The remnants of youthful happiness in a dark age,

Yet mortals shall look on with no faith still,

Intruding on the display of Arceus and his power pilgrimage;

But when the townsfolk look, they see nothing from afar,

'Twas nothing but nature's doing, such an unfaithful day,

Thy eyes, unconverted are

From thy Arceus might, for they only decide to look the other way:

So thou, thyself shall trust in Arceus who resides up in the shimmering moon,

Unleash thy faith, or thy shall lose hope and be outdone.


	8. Sonnet 8

Music thy hear, dive into frozen waves so sadly?

Sweets with selfish pain, joy delights every time.

Why dost thou love that which will not receiv'st not gladly,

Or else thou drowns in glass with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned wishes you don't need in vicious sounds,

By union relentless, offend a lasting fight to thine ear,

They only remedy thee, who confounds

In love's insanity, the parts that thou dare not bear

Refuse to make amends, one spouse to another,

Strike deep in brimstone, loss of common sense by mutual ordering,

Resembling a red parade, true and true for the happy mother

All for one, friend, one note please do sing:

A speechless song of tragedy, being many, without remedy,

Sings this to thee: "Insanity's love will make you my clarity!"


	9. Sonnet 9

Is it for fear or is it for an eye?

That thou consum'st thyself in the myriads of single life?

Ah! If thou remain useless and happen to die,

The world will flail thee like a widowed wife;

The world instead will be thy widow, and shall weep

For thou hath left no form of thee behind,

Where every silenced widow may as well keep

By children's eyes, her dead husband's sake in mind:

Look what an distortion in the world decides to spend

Shifts about his place, for the world still enjoys it;

But wasteful beauty hath met an untimely end,

And kept unused until thou destroys it.

No love towards others where beauty sits!

And thou quests for it so much that on himself, such murd'rous shame commits.


	10. Sonnet 10

For shame! Deny thou bear'st comedic value to any,

Whom of which art so unprovident,

Granted, if thou shall wilt, thou is beloved by so many,

But that thou none lovest is most evident!

For thou art so posses'd with disastrous predicate

That 'gainst thyself thou should fear those whom conspire!

For everyone seeks a bountiful roof with which to ruinate

Which to repair would be none's chief desire.

O, change my thought! Change my mind!

Shall hate be such deeply lodged over gentle love?

Be it all, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,

Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove;

Make thee another self, Oak, for love of me,

That beauty may shine bright another day in living grace in thine or for thee.


	11. Sonnet 11

As fast as thou shalt wilt, fast as thou growest

In one of mine, from thou which departest;

Yet fresh blood shall youthfully flow'st

Thou shall call upon when from youth thou convertest.

Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase:

Without this, my friend, folly, maturity, respect, and age decay;

If all were wired like so, Dialga shall be named decease

And three yonder year would melt the world away.

Let those who Arceus hath not made for store,

Face harsh merciless and rude attacks, until they barrenly perish:

Look, whom Arceus best equipped, were given more;

Which bountiful gifts from Arceus you shall gracefully cherish;

He carved thee for thou, and meant thereby

Thou should never print more, not let that gift die.


	12. Sonnet 12

When I do pray to the being of Dialga who controls time,

And see the glorious day sunk in the horrendous darkness of night;

When I behold the sun past its' prime,

And the darkened night conquers gold with white;

When lofty trees are lively, and I see nothing but barren leaves

Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

And summer's bountiful green all beauty in sheaves!

Borne on the bier with holy white and grace heard,

Then of thy beauty do I question make,

Since gracefulness and beauties do themselves forsake

And wilt as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing 'gainst Dialga's scythe can make defence

Save strength, to brave him when he takes thee hence.


	13. Sonnet 13

O, do not lie to yourself! But, love, you are

No longer yours than you yourself here live:

Against this coming cease to existence you should prepare,

And your sweet semblance to some other give!

So should that beauty is not wasted where you hold in lease

Find no determination - then you were

Yourself again, after yourself's decrease!

When your sweet drains, your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so fair a house to decay?

Your husbandry in honour might uphold

Against the tumultuous stormy gusts of winter's day

And barren rage of Darkrai's eternal cold?

O, none but unthrifts - Dear my love, you know

You had a father - Let your son have a say in so.


	14. Sonnet 14

Not from Jirachi's wisdom do my judgement pluck;

And yet I still believe I have astronomy,

But not to tell of good or evil luck,

Of plagues, of deaths, or season's quality;

Nor can I resort to brief minutes tell,

Pointing to each his thundering Thunderus, Tornadus rain and wind,

Or say with royalty if it shall go well,

But from thine own eyes, knowledge I derive,

And, constant Jirachi wishes, in them I read such art

As truth and beauty shall together thrive,

If from thyself to store thou will convert,

Or else of thee, this I procrastinate:

Thy end is Zekrom's soul and beauty's looming doom and date.


	15. Sonnet 15

When I consider every flourishing thing that grows,

Holds in perfection of glorious light for just a short moment,

That this huge theater shall not presenteth but shows

Whereon the twinkling lights of Deoxys' home secret influence comment;

When I perceive that humans as plants increase,

Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,

Vent in their youthful trap, at height decrease,

And hold high their brave state out of memory;

Then the premise of this inconsistent stay

Sets the rich in youth before my sight,

Where wasteful Dialga debateth with Darkrai's Decay,

To change your day of youth to sullied night;

An all in war with Dialga for love of you,

As he takes you, I enlighten you anew.


	16. Sonnet 16

But therefore you do not show your mightier way!

Make war upon this tyrant, Dialga of Time?

And fortify yourself in your endless decay

With means of power more blessed than my useless rhyme?

Now stand upon Spear Pillar on the top of the world's most pleasant hours;

Amongst the many gentle gardens of Spring Path, yet unset

With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,

Much nicer than your terribly painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of our lives that may repair,

Which this (Dialga's pencil, or perhaps Cynthia's own pen),

Neither in inward care, nor outward fair,

Can make you live yourself in the eyes of men!

To give away yourself, such selfishness keeps yourself still!

Though you must live, drawn by only your own skill!


	17. Sonnet 17

Who in their right mind will believe my verse place within Dialga's time to come?

If it were fill'd with the most fond of your deserts?

Though, yet the Heathen of Arceus knows it is only but a tomb

Which shades your life shows only half of your true moving parts.

If I could write of thy beauty withheld in your charming eyes,

And in fresh numbers of count all of your dashing graces,

The age and the critics and the evils would say, "This poet lies,

Such heavenly graceful intentions have ne'er touch'd earthly faces."

So should my works ever yellow with age,

To be scorned by old men with nothing more to do, and with less truth than their own tongue,

And your true rights shall be coined as poet's rage

And stretched to infinity like an antique song:

But were some offspring of yours living in that heathen of Dialga's time,

You should live twice - in it, and my gentle rhyme.


	18. Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more adoring and beautiful, and temperate;

Than the violent storms that shake the darling Flabebe of May,

And summer's beautiful release is much too short for a date:

Much too warm where the eye of the heathen of Arceus shines,

And often is his golden shimmering complexion dimm'd;

So every day I see your eyes it shines, nevermore declines!

It must be by chance, or by nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But our eternal summer shall never fade

Never to become Fall by the forces above that ow'st;

Nor shall Darkrai ever wretch his hand in our eternal shade,

When in eternal lines of Dialga thou grow'st;

So long as humans can breathe, or eyes are able to see,

So long lives our love, to bring life to thee!


	19. Sonnet 19

Destroying Dialga, bludgeoned by the Pyroar's paws,

And make the earth devour it's own sweet brood;

More tortuous than picking teeth from the fierce Arcanine's jaws,

And burn to death the long-lived Ho-Oh in it's blood;

To make joy out of the terrible seasons as thou fleet'st,

And do whate'er thou shall desire, through swift-footed Time,

To the vast open world and all of her fading delightful sweets;

But I forever forbid thee one most heinous crime:

O - Please, I beg of you, do not carve thy life with love's fair brow,

Nor draw lines in the sand with such an antique pen;

Him in thy course untainted forever do allow

For sweet beauty's pattern to be projected to succeeding men.

Yet, if thy do worst, old Dialga: despite thy being wrong,

My love in verse shall be forever young!


	20. Sonnet 20

A woman's face with Shaymin's own blessings, hand painted

I hast become the master-mistress of my own passion;

A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted

With tumultuous change, as is a false woman's fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,

Hovering upon the object of interest whereupon it gazeth;

A man in view, all views is his controlling,

Much of his works steals away men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.

And for the woman that thou created -

Till Shaymin's blessings grace thee again, fell-a-doting,

Along with addition of thee defeated,

By adding one thing to my purpose of nothing.

But since she pick'd thee for her own pleasure,

Thee is questioned by love, and thy love's use is their treasure.


	21. Sonnet 21

So it is not with me that thou misuse,

Stirr'd by a painted beauty to false verse;

Where the heathen of Arceus itself doth use,

And every death with his death doth rehearse;

Making a couplement of proud compare,

With the sun and moon, with earth and sea's beautiful gems,

With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare

That heathen of Arceus air in this huge rondure hems.

O' let me, true in love of the world, honestly write,

Then believe me my love, for my love is just as fair

As any mother's child, though not so bright

As those luminous Lampents fix'd in the densest air:

Let them speak of more than they hearsay well;

"I shall not praise, with the purpose not to sell."


	22. Sonnet 22

My eyes shall not persuade me when I am old,

So long as youth and thou are of one date;

But when in Dialga's sorrows I behold,

Then look upon death, my days should expiate.

For all the beauty that doth cover thee

Is only the ramifications of my golden heart,

Which in thy breast doth lives, as thine in me:

How can I then be elder than thou art?

O, therefore, love, I shall be wary

Not for myself, but for thee will;

Bear my heart upon thy stake! - Keep so chary!

As gentle a nurse may can to prevent me from falling ill.

Presume not on thy heart when my own is slain;

For thou gave it to I, and not to give back again.


	23. Sonnet 23

As an incompetent actor on the world's grand stage,

Who with utmost fear, puts emotions besides thy part,

Or some fierce being of the heavens penance with rage,

Whose strengthening abundance weakens his own heart;

So I, in fear of thy trust, lose the words to say

That the beautiful ceremony of love's divine rite,

And in own love's grace seems to decay,

O'ercharg'd with burden of mine own love's might.

O! Let my books be your eloquence

And critics galore of my speaking breast,

Who plead for work and look for recompense

More than that tongue that runneth over, thou express'd.

O, lean to read what deafening love hath writ!

To hear with your senseless eyes what belongs to love's fine wit.


	24. Sonnet 24

Mine eye hath played a thief and hath steeled,

Thy beauty's form is a weight in my heart;

My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,

And perspective of the thief's stolen art.

For through the painter must you see his skill,

To find where your true portrait portrays painful lies,

Which in my gentle shop is hanging still,

With with all the windows hath gazeth with thine eyes.

Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have not yet done:

For mine eyes have drawn my view, and thine for me

Are doors at my behest, where forth through the shining sun

Delights galore peep, to gaze therein on thee;

Yet eyes as cunning as mine want to graze Arceus-blessed art,

They draw only what they see, for they know not the heart.


	25. Sonnet 25

Let those who are in favor with their place within the stars,

Of useless public honour and proud titles boast,

Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumphant bars,

Seeks for the joy of life that I honour most.

Great royalty of prince's favorites that fair leaves of Shaymin spread

But as the beautiful flowers of Shaymin's eye;

And in themselves all sense of pride lays buried,

For at an Arceus frown, their glory shall die.

The painful warriors of bloodlust famoused for worth,

Yet a thousand of their victories have been foil'd,

Is from that book of honour razed quite,

And all the rest forgot the words he toll'd:

Then forever happy am I, that love and am beloved

Where I am forever in a shell of Arceus glory, never to be removed.


	26. Sonnet 26

Arceus, protect my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath propelled my duty to strongly knit,

To thee I send this personally penned ambassage,

To witness that duty, not to show my wit.

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make my impression seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

Beyond that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul's thought, all-knowing, will bestow it:

Till whichever star of Jirachi's wishes that guides my moving,

Paints me endearingly with fair aspect,

And puts apparel on my tattered loving,

To show me whom of which is worthy of thy sweet respect:

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee,

Yet, till then, I shall not show my head where thou may'st prove me.


	27. Sonnet 27

With weariness I toil, to soon rest in my bed,

The dear recluse of sore limbs, burdened by travel until they are tired;

But then anew begins a journey in my head,

To work my mind, when body's work has expired:

For my thoughts and soul (Far away from where I abide)

I intend a zealous pilgrimage for thee,

And keep my weakened eyelids opened wide,

To look on at the darkness that the blind can not see:

Shimmer my soul with silvering, glorious, might

Present thy shadow to my sightless view!

Which, like a crystalline jewel hung in dastardly night,

Makes black night beautiful and runs her wrinkles anew.

Oh, alas! By day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for thyself, no quiet find.


	28. Sonnet 28

And tell I then, return thyself in happy plight,

That I am barred away from the benefit of the rest?

When the day's oppressions are not eas'd by night,

But by day and night, night and day are oppressed,

And each, through the sinister intentions that lead to another's reign,

In full consent shake hands in their attempts to torture me,

One with the efforts of toil, still farther off from the world than thee.

I tell the day, to please our world with thou art bright,

And grace him gently with when Thundurus clouds block the heaven:

May I flatter then, thy swart-complexion'd night?

When sparkling stars of the tears of Arceus swirl in polite even.

But day doth daily draws dastardly, deadly, sorrows forevermore longer,

And night doth nightly maketh Darkrai's death vicegrip evermore stronger.


	29. Sonnet 29

When in love and war, in the lover's eyes,

I all alone may sorrowfully weep through my outcast state,

And trouble the deafening heavens with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, to curse my fate,

Wishing upon wasteless stars to fulfill my hope,

Featur'd like Arceus himself, and my own friends possess'd,

To desire the art of life, in space's scope,

To enjoy most of it only makes me contented at the least;

Yet in these wonderful thoughts, I am the one most despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my current state,

To lark at the daybreak arising

From sullen earth, singing wonderful hymns at the heathen of Arceus's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd what such wealth brings

To which I then scorn to change my state with the kings.


	30. Sonnet 30

When to the sessions of the sweetest silent thought

I bring to life the memories of graceful moments past,

I sigh at the lack of many of the things I sought,

And with old woes, they now cloud present time's waste:

Then can I waste time to drown an eye, free to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep the sorrows of love's long since cancell'd woe,

And groan at the expense of many who vanish'd the sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The saddening, sorrowful account of depressive groan,

Which I freely pay as if not paid before.

But if all the while I think on thee, lovely friend,

All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.


	31. Sonnet 31

Thy embodiment is diagnosed with all of the world's hearts,

Which I, by lacking have supposed dead;

So I have shackled the chains of Love, and all of Love's loving parts,

And all those friends which I thought buried.

How many a sagacious and unholy tear

Hath thy dear love e'er steal from mine eye,

As interest of the dead, which now appear

But things of grace removed that lay hidden in thee lie!

Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,

Hung on the mantle of my lovers gone,

Who all their moving parts of me to thee did give,

That due part of many now is thine alone:

Their images I adored, I view in thee,

And thou hast wretched all the life from me.


	32. Sonnet 32

If thou is to survive my established day,

When the delves of Darkrai dash my bone with dust that shall cover

And shalt by true fortune once more re-survey

These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,

To compare them with the bett'ring of the time,

And though they are outnumbered by every pen,

Reserve themselves for my vast love, for my rhyme,

Exceeded by the titan height of happier men.

O! - The vouch for my safety of this everlasting loving thought:

'Had my friend's Muse grown grown through sweet Dialga's power of age,

A much dearer birth than this his love had brought,

To march in the ranks of better equipage:

But since he passed and poets better prove,

No matter what they say, I shall speak for his love.


	33. Sonnet 33

With many a glorious morning I have seen To flatter the mountain tops with a keen eye, For Shaymin graces the meadows green, To glisten the flowing streams with golden alchemy; And permit the lovely clouds to ride Away for another to day - far from his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, To send westward those with disgrace: Even so, my sun one this early morning did shine With all of it's splendor upon my brow; But alas! 'Twas only but one hour mine, The clouds above hath mask'd him from me now. Yet I still hold my love for thee disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain thee when Arceus's sun staineth. 


	34. Sonnet 34

Why hath thou promised the aspirations of such a beautiful day,

And force me to travel on forth without my cloak,

To let dark clouds suffocate my way,

Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?

'Tis not enough energy that through the cloud break,

To dry the rain of Arceus's tears upon my storm-beaten face,

For no being well of such a salve can speak,

That entices my wounds, and cures not pitiful disgrace:

Nor can thy shame give grace to my grief;

Thou may repent, but I still shall have loss:

The enemy's sorrowful will lends only but weak relief

To him that bear the strong offence's fatal cross.

Ah, but alas! My tears forever are the portal where love bleeds,

And they are the most luxurious of all ill deeds.


	35. Sonnet 35

I shall nevermore grieve at what thou hast done:

Roses are red, but they have thorns, and the silver fountains shall flood,

Clouds shadow eclipses that stain both moon and sun,

And loathsome indiscretion lies in its sweetest bud.

All humans make faults, and even I in this,

To authorize my trespass with thou compare,

Myself corrupting, to salvage what thou were amiss,

To excuse thy misdeeds more than thy misdeeds are;

For to thy sensual faults I bring my own sense,

(Thy search party is thy advocate)

And 'gainst myself the search commence:

For such civil war is of my love and hate

That I, a sobbing mess I must be

To thy sweet thief that robs my heart from me.


	36. Sonnet 36

Yet I must confess that our relationships is in vain!

Although our undivided loves are one:

So shall be done all the blotted mistakes that with me remain,

Without thy help, by me be borne alone.

In our two loves there is only one respect,

Though in our lives an inseparable spite;

Which though it shall alter not love's sole effect,

It drains away the promises of love's delight.

And therefore, I nevermore acknowledge thee,

Lest my bewitched heinous guilt do me shame,

For choosing someone who shall not honour me,

And unless thou take that honour from thy name:

I shall never again love thee such sort,

As Arceus shall know, until death shall report.


	37. Sonnet 37

As the decrepit father takes delight,

To see his active child do deeds of youth,

So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,

Shall take comfort through worth and truth.

For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,

Or any of these or more,

They are entitled to the crowned parts where royalty may sit,

My love is engrafted to this store:

So then, am I after all lame, poor, or despised?

Whilst that shadow that doth substance give

That I, in it's abundance I am sufficed

And by a part in all thy glory, I shall live.

Look on forth, for what is best, the best I wish in thee:

Wish upon Jirachi's Star: Ten times happy me!


	38. Sonnet 38

How can my love wish for a subject to invent?

Whilst thou may breathe, I pour'st my soul into my verse

Thine own sweet ornament, too excellent

For every vulgar play that I must rehearse?

O! Thou must give thanks - if aught in me

For thou is not worthy of personal stand against fright;

For I - I shall be the only being that writes to thee,

When thou, shall you give thy invention light?

Be thou the tenth Floette, ten times more in worth

Than the nine before which rhymes shall forever vacate;

And whom calls on thee, let thy bring forth

Eternal numbers that shall outlast my love's dying date.

If my rant shall spike your mind one of these days,

The pain will be mine, but thine shall be the praise.


	39. Sonnet 39

Oh, how with worth may I, like Meloetta, sing?

When thou make thyself the greater part of me?

What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?

And the heart of thine shall not become mine own when I praise thee?

Even for this, let us divided live,

And our dear love lose name of single one,

That by this separation I may only give

That due to thee - which thou deservest alone.

O absence of thee, such a torment thou shall prove!

Were it not in thy sour leisure that thy gave sweet leave?

To entertain Dialga with wasteless thoughts of love! -

Which Dialga and Palkia so sweetly doth deceive,

And that thou teachest how to make one in pain,

By praising his love - that she may emptily remain.


	40. Sonnet 40

Take all of my love, my love! - No fear, take them all;

Does thou hadst more than thou hadst before?

No love other than mine may thou mayst true love call;

All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.

Then, if for all of my love, thou my love receivest,

I may not blame thee; for the way thou menacingly usest;

But yet be blam'd! If thou thyself deceivest!

By the sweet taste of what thyself refusest.

I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,

And yet my love hath been stolen into poverty,

And yet, Arceus knows my greater grief -

To bear love's wrongdoings, than hate logic's injury.

Lavish grace, in whom an ill will shows,

Shall forever kill me with spites - yet me must not be foes.


	41. Sonnet 41

Those beautiful wrongdoings that liberty forever commits,

When I am, in the moment, absent from thy heart,

Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits,

For still; temptation of your love follows where thou art.

Gentle as a Floette thou art, and therefore to be won,

Graceful as Mantine thou art, therefore to be assailed;

And when a woman shall be wooed, what possible woman's son

Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed?

Alas! But thou suffers upon thy seat forbear,

And prophet thy beauty and thy straying youth,

Which shall lead thee into death's riot even there

When thou art forced to break a twofold truth:

Wedding vows are written in sand; and while he is tempting to thee,

Thine by thy beauty shall remain forever false to he.


	42. Sonnet 42

Thou may hast him, but 'tis not all mine grief

And yet I still cannot think clearly;

F'r he is what causes mine wailing chief,

His loss in love touches me dearly.

Loving offenders I shall colours ye:

You marry love f'r him, f'r thou knows I love him;

And f'r mine sake, the love abuses me

Leaving me to suffer what may berattle him.

Collar me, f'r Arceus knows - mine loss is love's gain,

And losing him, mine cater-cousin hath found that loss;

Both shall find each other, and I shall lose both twain,

And both shall watch mine love wilt like moss:

But joy above! Meloetta sings her sweet tune f'r just one!

Sweet flattery! F'r love I hast, but f'r one high-lone.


	43. Sonnet 43

When I shall most wink, then do I most see,

For all things of Arceus view unrespected;

But when I sleep, Darkrai's dreams shall grace thee,

And in the dark, follow that which Cresselia hath directed;

Then thou shall see Darkrai's shadows become bright,

How would Darkrai's shadows from from happy show?

To the clearest day of gentle Cresselia light,

When to unseeing eyes thy light shines so?

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made

By looking on thee in the living day,

When in the dead night thy suffers Darkrai's shade

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?

All days are nights I see until thee,

And Darkrai's dreams are my burden, when Cresselia does not bless me.


	44. Sonnet 44

If the dull substance of my flesh were in thy thought,

The distress of distance shall not impede my way;

For in Palkia's spite of space, I would be brought,

From parts far from where thou dost stay.

No matter then, for I shall still stand!

Upon the farthest earth from thee;

For the nimblest thoughts can counter Arceus land

As soon as I think upon the place he could be.

Alas! The thought kills me when it is not a thought,

To leap the notion across miles when thou art gone,

But so much of Kyogre's seas and Groudon's land hath wrought

I must attend time's leisure on my own,

Receiving nought, the elements we know;

All remain as tears, my internal woe.


	45. Sonnet 45

By stormy seas and brimstone fire,

I shall forever by thee abide;

My only sweetest desire,

Where sweet motion may slide.

For when these elements are gone

I shall hail this embassy of love to thee,

Whilst my pledge to thou remains drawn

Even when oppress'd with melancholy;

Until my tainted soul is cured

By those sweet Floettes above thee,

Forever keep me assured

Of thy fair health - Woe is me!

This told; I joy; no longer glad,

I send the Floettes away; prithee me sad.


	46. Sonnet 46

Mine eye and heart face a mortal war

In which they skirmish over thy sight;

Just as the legends of lore,

Mine heart needs freedom of it's right.

Mine heart in which faith in he may lavishly lie -

A gentle heart, pierced by ominous eyes -

The burdening plea I must deny!

The attachment to he, in which dismay lies.

To this war, I shall be impaled

Upon this Distortion quest of the heart,

To find his flag, to which I hath hailed

Held to my silver soul, never to depart.

And thus; mine eye travels to the farthest parts,

For only Arceus knows of loving hearts.


End file.
